


You're Adoughrable

by grantairrible



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Minor Character Death, well sorta it's a bakery but they serve coffee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-01 20:17:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4033150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grantairrible/pseuds/grantairrible
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire does actually like his job in the bakery, but his favourite part about it is the guys who live upstairs. The two gorgeous, unattainable guys who happen to be dating each other and who Grantaire happens to be crushing on.<br/>Well, shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Grantaire didn’t plan to work at the bakery forever. For one thing, the skin on his hands wouldn’t survive that long, since he had to scrub off the paint – and in the process half his skin – on his hands in order to not contaminate the food he was serving. And thank goodness he wasn’t one of the bakers. But did have free reign over the coffee machine, which meant that he got good quality coffee without having to pay a fortune for it. The job also paid enough for him to get through his art degree without having to rely on his parents, which was always a plus. The best thing about working in the bakery, though, wasn’t even part of the job, but the guys who lived in the apartment above.

They would come down at exactly seven in the morning, when the bakery had just opened and the scent of baking bread was hanging heavy in the air. The two of them would always have exactly the same coffee orders, in their keep cups of course: soy latte for the fiery, model-like blonde, who would promptly pour in two teaspoons of sugar, and a long black for the other man – a tall, lanky guy with dark skin and an undercut. Both had ridiculous cheekbones and were completely gorgeous. They were both clearly university students, although rich ones who could afford coffee each morning and tip well. Surprisingly, they were both tattooed – blonde guy had some quote scrawled on his forearm, while undercut had a space themed sleeve on one arm, and a flora- and fauna-centric one on the other, usually disguised by a sensible button-up shirt. Every now and then he would roll up his sleeves, and Grantaire’s mouth would go dry. The two of them were also clearly dating, often leaving hand in hand, or stealing each other’s glasses while they grumbled at the newspapers. It was sickeningly cute.

Sometimes they would drop by in the afternoon and share a pastry or a piece of cake. Often a third joined them, an almost hyperactive pixie-like boy, with his dark curls and golden-brown skin, equally as attractive as the others. He would always smile widely at Grantaire, and rounded out the other two, bringing out a more considerate side from the blonde, grounding the other’s abstract intellectual streams of thought. Every now and then they would discuss politics, and Grantaire would snort derisively at their unrestrained optimism.

Grantaire wasn’t even aware they even noticed him until one day the blonde looked up and arched an eyebrow at him, scathing.

“Do you have something to say?”

Grantaire flushed and looked down at the table he was wiping. “Nope, not me.”

“If you have a problem with what we’re talking about, then please speak.” The blonde man said, his gaze challenging.

“Enjolras, you need to stop verbally attacking strangers.” Undercut guy said fondly, rolling his eyes. He looked over at Grantaire. “Sorry about him.”

“Grantaire’s not a stranger, ‘Ferre.” Enjolras said, a touch petulantly. “I know his name, I’ve talked to him most days for the past couple of months.”

“You only know my name because of my name tag, and I don’t think you can count me taking your order as proper conversation.” Grantaire said. “Hell, I only your name because he just said it.”

“Has that never come up?” Enjolras frowned. “How rude of me, sorry. I’m Enjolras, as you have apparently learnt, and this is my boyfriend Combeferre, and our friend Courfeyrac.”

Courfeyrac was grinning slyly at Grantaire, which he ignored.

“Nice to meet you all. I’m Grantaire, call me R, and I have some tables to wipe. Excuse me.” He turned away, picking up his cloth again.

He ignored them until they got up to leave, and their chairs scraped against the floor, making them all wince. Courfeyrac waved enthusiastically as they walked out the door, Combeferre offering a kind smile as he raised his hand awkwardly, and Enjolras even managed to quirk his lips up at the corners and not look entirely exasperated.

* * *

 

The next time he saw the couple, Grantaire was closing up the shop. It was late on a Saturday night, and he was exhausted after scrubbing the entire bakery after an eight hour shift. He had just turned the lights off and was in the process of locking the doors when he heard, rather than saw, Enjolras and Combeferre emerging from a taxi. Enjolras was quite clearly drunk, and was babbling loudly and excitedly at Combeferre, who was propping him up while he searched for his keys.

“Been having fun?” Grantaire asked, as Enjolras threw his arms around Combeferre and started waxing romantic about freedom and liberty.

“It’s his birthday in a couple of hours.” Combeferre explained, extricating himself from Enjolras’ grip.

“Oh, happy birthday.” Grantaire said.

“Thank you!” Enjolras said, smiling widely and attaching himself to Grantaire. “Your hair is really soft.”

“Sorry about him.” Combeferre muttered, tugging Enjolras away. “He’s a very clingy drunk.”

“No kidding. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

“You, too.” Combeferre said. “Come on, E.”

“He’s so pretty, though, Ferre.” Grantaire could have sworn he heard Enjolras said as he turned away and started heading home. It couldn’t have been right, though. Grantaire was not pretty in the slightest, and Enjolras would definitely not think he was. He must have been talking about Combeferre. Although Combeferre was just plain hot – Enjolras was the pretty one and _this was not the right train of thought_. They were in a relationship, and while he couldn’t help but notice they were attractive, it couldn’t go any further than that. He would be the only one who would get hurt in that situation.

* * *

Grantaire was half-dead on his feet the next morning, and was on his second cup of coffee when Combeferre arrived alone, later than usual.

“Enjolras hung over?” Grantaire smirked as he started making their coffees.

“Yes, unfortunately.” Combeferre sighed. “He’s a big baby when he feels unwell, and hangovers are no exception.”

Grantaire found it difficult to reconcile the fiery, opinionated man with such an image. “Really?”

“The first time he was sick after we started dating, I made Courfeyrac come over and check up on him, I was so surprised. They’ve known each other forever.” Combeferre’s expression was unbelievably fond, and Grantaire ached to have someone think of him that way. He rushed to finish their coffees, and threw a couple of muffins in a bag.

“On the house, for the birthday boy.”

Combeferre smiled warmly at Grantaire, who stubbornly ignored the way his stomach jolted. “Thank you, these are his favourite.”

“I know.” Grantaire said, ignoring the blush rising up his cheeks. “He buys one whenever we make them.”

Combeferre glanced at him, expression indiscernible, and then was back to his gentle smile. “Tomorrow’s your day off, yeah?”

Grantaire nodded, surprised that Combefere would remember.

“We’ll see you on Tuesday, then. Thanks again for the muffins.”

Grantaire waved, trying not to grin dopily.

A voice came from the kitchen. “Did you give some of my famous muffins away for free?”

Grantaire turned around guiltily. “I might have.”

Musichetta appeared, scowling. “He’d better be worth it.”

“He’s taken.”

“Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?” Musichetta asked, wiping her floury hands on her apron. “Have you forgotten that I’m currently dating two guys who were in a relationship together?”

“They’re not going to want me.” Grantaire said in a small voice. “Why would two guys like that want to date me?”

“R, honey.” Musichetta pulled him into a hug. “You’re an amazing guy, and anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Grantaire shook his head and pulled away. “You’re sweet, no wonder you have two guys in love with you. Go home and be sickening with your cute boyfriends. All the other bakers left ages ago.”

Musichetta took Grantaire’s face in her hands. “Try not to be too hard on yourself.”

“I’ll try.” Grantaire shrugged out of her grip. “Say hi to Joly and Bossuet for me.”

She pecked him on the cheek. “We have to all hang out sometime soon. Something will probably end up on fire, though. I love Bossuet, but he can be a bit of a human disaster.”

* * *

 

Grantaire hummed to himself for the rest of the morning, tidying up the bakery, sketching out some new pictures on the blackboard wall.

“You’re very good at that.”

He jumped and turned around, fingers covered in chalk dust. “Enjolras, hi. I didn’t see you there. But, ah- thanks.”

Enjolras shrugged. He looked like shit, dressed in tracksuit pants and an old jumper, but was still managing to pull it off effortlessly. “’Ferre told me about you giving us muffins, and I wanted to come and say thanks. So. Thank you.”

“No worries.” Grantaire said. “Happy birthday.”

Enjolras winced. “I can’t remember much of last night, but I can remember you telling me that already. I’m sorry if the way I acted made you uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine, really. I’ve been drunk enough in the past to know what that’s like.”

“Not planning on it anytime soon? So I can get you back for it?” Enjolras joked awkwardly. He almost seemed like he was nervous, but that couldn’t be right. He must have just been feeling hungover still.

Grantaire tugged at the cuffs of his jumper, leaving pastel smudges. “No, not planning on it. I don’t drink anymore.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Enjolras really did look sorry, and Grantaire wondered if he was always this sincere. Were people like that even real?

“Don’t worry about it.” Grantaire waved him off. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

A small wrinkle appeared between Enjolras’ brows, and Grantaire wanted to reach over and smooth it out. He wasn’t meant to make Enjolras stressed.

“Anyway.” Grantaire said, after a sufficiently awkward pause. “When’s Combeferre’s birthday? So I know when to give him free food too.”

“…I’m a terrible boyfriend.” Enjolras said.

Grantaire laughed. “You don’t know, do you?”

Enjolras shook his head. “Nope. I have it in my calendar, but I left my phone upstairs. I’ll make sure to warn you in advance. It’s in September, I think. Maybe.”

“You’re really bad at this.” Grantaire said. “Can you at least remember your anniversary?”

“July 14th.” Enjolras seemed relieved, and Grantaire didn’t really blame him.

“Ooh, that’s soon. Of course you started dating on Bastille Day, you revolutionary dorks. Well, I’ll get ‘Chetta to make you something special. How many years is this year?”

Enjolras flushed. “It’s our second. First since we’ve been living together.”

“I thought you guys must have been dating for ages, you’re such a good couple.”

Enjolras shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I have to think of something special to do, I’m not very good at romance.”

“Hey, I’m sure he knew that when he started dating you. So don’t try and do something that’s not like you, because that kind of defeats the point.”

“Thank you.” Enjolras said, tipping his head to the side. “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

Grantaire shrugged. “You don’t know when your boyfriend’s birthday is. I don’t think anyone would tip you as the romantic type. I can’t say I know Combeferre well, but he doesn’t strike me as that much of a romantic either. So, like. Don’t stress.”

“You’re good at this.” Enjolras said, his head still tipped to the side thoughtfully. “I’ll have to come to you if I ever need relationship advice.”

“If you think I’m giving good advice, you should see my dating history. Seriously, listening to me is a terrible idea.”

“Ask Combeferre, I seem to have a lot of terrible ideas.” Enjolras said, shooting Grantaire a smile. “Anyway, I’d better get back to him. Again, thanks.”

“Really not that much of an issue.” Grantaire rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. “See you.”

Enjolras gave him a little wave, obviously one of Combeferre’s mannerisms he’d picked up on. Grantaire hit his head on the counter. “Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first proper published fic, so please be gentle with me if you decide to comment (which would be much appreciated)!! I'm still learning how to use AO3 properly and figuring out how to write these characters, so I apologise if anything's off in this. Anyway, I thought there could always be more e/r/c fic in the world so I decided to write something, but since I'm pretty new to this it won't be too long or angst-ridden. I'll try to update as soon as I can since I have most of this written, but I do have exams coming up so I apologise in advance if I don't get to this soon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't planned to post the second chapter so soon, but I had some lovely comments so I decided to edit it today and get it up. I can't promise that my next update will be as quick, but I hope you enjoy this one!

“I tell you, Bahorel, they’re fucking perfect.” Grantaire said, picking up his gym bag and fishing out his towel. “It’d be gross if it wasn’t so cute.”

Bahorel laughed. “They’d be crazy not to go for you, you’re a catch. I’d totally date you, if I liked guys.”

“Bahorel. You like guys. You and Feuilly have been dating for two years.”

“We’re just bros.”

“You two are disgusting.”

“You just wish you had a relationship as good as mine.”

“I do.” Grantaire sighed. “I really do.”

 

By the time Grantaire had showered and dressed in his street clothes, Bahorel was lounging on one of the benches, texting.

“Did you even shower? You’re so gross, man.” Grantaire said, nudging him until he stood up.

“Not all of us take eons to wash.” Bahorel returned. “The gym showers are so gross, why would you want to spend longer in there than you have to?”

“True. Anyway, I need a favour. An art favour.”

“You want me to model for you? Nude?” Bahorel leered at Grantaire, who rolled his eyes.

“Not quite. I’m doing a mythology-inspired thing for class and your friend Jehan is, like, the most ethereal person I’ve ever met. I want to paint them as a faerie or something, if they don’t mind.”

Bahorel shrugged. “I can ask, I don’t think they’d mind. They’ll probably even recite poetry at you, to get you into the mood. But I get a favour in return.”

“No. ‘Chetta already asked me.”

“You don’t even know what it is.” Bahorel whined.

“I’m not joining your social justice club.”

Bahorel pouted. “Just one meeting. I know you’ll like everyone.”

“Fine.” Grantaire said, pulling a face. “I hope you know I’m doing this for you guys, though. This is not of my own volition.”

“Fuck off, I’m a lawyer. You agreed to go, so it’s of your own volition.”

“Coerced consent, or whatever.”

“Ugh.” Bahorel wrinkled his nose. “I never wanted to be a lawyer, anyway. Can I come and sell baked goods with you?”

“Ask ‘Chetta. She’s the one who owns the bakery.”

* * *

As soon as Grantaire stepped into back room of the Café Musain, he knew he’d made a terrible decision. Enjolras, Combeferre and Courfeyrac were standing at the head of a long table, heads together in discussion. Grantaire stopped walking, and Bossuet smacked into him, falling to the ground. Joly immediately swooped down, checking for injuries.

Grantaire turned to Musichetta. “You knew they’d be here.”

“Yep.” She popped the ‘p’. “You needed to pull your head of your ass, so we’re doing it for you. Don’t worry, they’ll be totally psyched to see you. Enjolras is like a puppy when there’s new people committing to the cause.”

“But I’m not committing to the cause.” Grantaire said. “This is a really bad idea, they haven’t even noticed me yet. I can totally-“

Then Combeferre looked up, breaking out into a grin when he spotted Grantaire. “R, I can’t say I expected to see you here.”

“Yeah, well. These guys,” Grantaire jerked his head at the small crowd of people behind him, since Bahorel and Feuilly had followed them in, “Dragged me along.”

“I didn’t even realise you knew any of these guys. Apart from Musichetta, with the bakery and all.” And then Combeferre was approaching him, dragging along Enjolras, who was buried in his notes until he almost hit Grantaire.

What was it with people and walking into him tonight?

“Oh, hi.” Enjolras said, eyes widening. “Come in, Grantaire.”

“You can just call me R, everyone else does.” Grantaire said, unwillingly following Enjolras and Combeferre to the table. He really wanted something to drink, but he wasn’t about to give up all of his hard work.

Bossuet must have noticed something about Grantaire’s strained expression as he sat at the table, and grabbed the seat next to him. “You okay, R?”

Grantaire shrugged, trying to stop his leg from jiggling. “Same old.”

“We can leave if you want, nobody’s going to mind.” Bossuet said seriously. “Your mental health is more important than this meeting.”

“I’ll be okay, but thanks. Really.” Grantaire said, smiling when Joly set a cup of tea down in front of him.

“It’s too late to be drinking coffee.” He explained, setting down his own cup and sitting on Grantaire’s other side. “Too much caffeine at this time will have you up all night.”

“Thanks. You guys-“ Grantaire was saved from saying something really sappy and embarrassing by Enjolras standing at the head of the table and gesturing for quiet, looking like an avenging angel. Grantaire was really, really fucked.

* * *

 

Somehow, Grantaire made it through the meeting while Combeferre and Enjolras were a beautiful and seamless pair, picking up on each other’s trains of thought and supporting their arguments. Even though Courfeyrac wasn’t dating them, he obviously fitted in perfectly, making interjections and speeches that only strengthened what was being said, bringing reality and possibility to plans and ideals. Grantaire, meanwhile, pulled out his sketchbook and drew portraits of the hopeful faces around him, only breaking his silence to disagree with the golden trio, as he’d heard Bahorel call them. He hadn’t felt so out of control of himself as long as he’d been sober. He knew he was getting on their nerves, especially Enjolras’, who seemed to be the embodiment of their beliefs, and would sometimes act as if he were personally offended when Grantaire pointed out flaws in his arguments. It was usually Combeferre, though, who shot him down with a few carefully chosen words.

When the meeting ended, everyone started to mill about and chat, catching up with each other. Grantaire left as quickly as he could, ignoring the itch under his skin to buy a bottle of vodka so he’d be able to forget how much he’d fucked up, to stop the noise in his head. It was only when he made it out of the doors that he remembered he’d got a lift in with Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta. He’d have to wait for them to finish in order to leave. Filling his lungs with icy air, Grantaire turned around and went back inside.

Combeferre was at his side as soon as he went back to the group, examining him with that unreadable gaze. “I thought for a second you’d left without saying goodbye.”

“Nope, I just needed some air.” Grantaire chuckled weakly, as if that hadn’t been what he was planning on doing. “I didn’t think any of you would notice, even if I had.”

Combeferre’s eyebrows drew together and then relaxed, as if he’d come to some sort of realisation. Grantaire didn’t want to know what that meant. “Of course we would notice. Nobody can keep up with Enjolras, usually. Even if they can, I don’t think many people would have the guts to stand up to him, so he’s not exactly used to it. He really does need to learn how to handle criticism, I’m sorry that he snapped at you so much.”

“I was being a bit of a dick. I’d snap at me, too.”

“Still, I’m just going to…” Combeferre turned away for a second, fingers closing around Grantaire’s wrist as he tugged him slightly in the direction of Enjolras, before realising what he was doing and letting go. “Sorry. I’ll get Enjolras.”

“You don’t need to do that.” Grantaire said, but Combeferre was already gone, weaving through the small crowd.

Within moments he was back, Enjolras beside him.

Enjolras was almost emitting light, blazing with fervour from within. Grantaire really wanted to paint him, and how his brightness illuminated those around him, especially Combeferre. Grantaire felt inferior in the face of such glory, like it only served to point out his flaws.

“Thank you for coming.” Enjolras said, and he was being his weird, sincere self. “You made some very constructive points, even if they were unnecessarily negative at times. I hope you’ll come back next week.”

“Unnecessarily negative? I’d say realistic.” Grantaire said, and he knew he was only doing it to rile up Enjolras, but he couldn’t really stop the words from escaping his mouth.

“I suppose we disagree on the nature of humanity, then.” Enjolras said coolly. “I would like it if you gave us the opportunity to prove you wrong.”

Grantaire snorted. “I’d like to give you the opportunity, but I don’t think that’s actually possible, since humans are inherently selfish beings. Sure, some individuals are good, but as a whole, humanity is terrible. You might be able to change the minds of a few, but not all.”

Enjolras was getting worked up as Grantaire spoke, but deflated as Combeferre placed a hand on his arm. Combeferre didn’t speak, though, and seemed to be amused by the argument playing out.

“We can achieve nothing so long as we believe that we cannot change humanity. Informing individuals is important, but it is not enough.”

“Exactly. So why bother? You’re rich, you’ve got a gorgeous boyfriend. Give up, and enjoy what you’ve been given in life.” Grantaire knew he’d overstepped the line, he didn’t even believe what he was saying, but he was powerless against Enjolras’ fury. Anything that would keep him talking in such proximity, with such passion, was worth it.

Enjolras turned away sharply, moving to gather his things from the table and shove them in his bag.

“Ah, shit.” Grantaire muttered.

Combeferre, who was considering Grantaire in that manner that made him slightly uncomfortable again, raised an eyebrow. “That was interesting.”

“I didn’t even mean most of what I was saying.” Grantaire said. “That was a really awful thing to say, I didn’t mean to make such a personal attack. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that somehow you’d somehow been given to him, that’s horrible.”

Combeferre shrugged. “I don’t think I’m the one you really need to be apologising to.”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me right now.” Grantaire said, fiddling with the frayed edges of his jumper. His mind was screaming at him, a chant of _you fucked up, you fucked up._ Well, he wasn’t going to sleep tonight. Acting in such a stupid way almost certainly meant he’d be kept up by his head, going over that moment over and over, thinking of what he could have – _should have_ – said instead.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t realise Combeferre was speaking to him.

“Sorry, what?”

“You should apologise anyway. Enjolras, if anyone, will understand what it’s like to say something you don’t mean in the heat of the moment.”

Grantaire nodded weakly. “I’ll do it. Thanks for being so nice to me. I don’t know why you are. I mean I just massively insulted you and your boyfriend, and you’re here talking to me. I don’t even know why anyone would want to do that at the best of times.”

Combeferre shook his head. “It’s sad that you think like that. All of us here care about what you have to say. Even Enjolras. Believe me, if he didn’t want you to be here, then you wouldn’t be here. It’s happened before.”

 

Grantaire mulled that over and headed to Enjolras, who was standing alone in the corner, fiddling with the strap of his bag.

Enjolras glanced up as he approached, still looking hurt, but didn’t move away. Maybe Grantaire just looked that pathetic.

“What do you want?” Enjolras asked sharply, the planes of his face looking harsher than usual, but no less beautiful.

“To apologise. I don’t know why I said that. I didn’t believe it, and I mean, if anyone can change humanity it’s you.” Grantaire realised what he’d just said, and cleared his throat. “It’s you guys. I look forwards to you proving me wrong about all this. It’s not your fault I have trust issues with the entire human population.”

The tension in Enjolras posture dissipated, and Grantaire couldn’t help but think of a marble statue coming to life. “I’m sure you meant some of it. I mean, I do have a gorgeous boyfriend.”

“Well, yeah. You guys have to be one of the most attractive couples I’ve ever seen.” _Foot, get out of mouth._

Enjolras looked shocked, going red up to the tips of his ears.

“Anyway,” Grantaire hastened to say. “I really am sorry for what I said. I totally get it if you don’t want me to come back next week.”

“Why would I not want that?” Enjolras looked genuinely puzzled. “In fact, you had some really good points and I was wondering if you’d go over some of my speeches when I’ve written them? There’s a rally coming up in a couple of months that I’m speaking at, and I want to be able to have the best argument I can. So, please, be brutal.”

“You want me to do what?” This was turning out to be one of the most bizarre nights of Grantaire’s life.

“To go over my speech. I totally understand if you don’t have the time, but I’d be so grateful if you could even glance over it.”

Grantaire blinked furiously. “Okay, yeah. I can do that. I’m not saying any of my points will be any good, but yeah. Sure thing.”

Enjolras rummaged in his bag and pulled out a notepad and a pen. “Can you give me your email, so I can send it to you when I’ve written it?”

“Of course.” Grantaire scribbled it down. “I hope that’s legible. I have terrible handwriting.”

“You’ve clearly never seen mine.”

Grantaire looked up to see Combeferre slipping his hand into Enjolras’.

“It’s true, he falls completely into the doctor stereotype.”

Combeferre rolled his eyes. “I’m still several years away from being a doctor. Medical degrees take a long time.”

“Oh, you’re doing medicine?” Grantaire asked, but he wasn’t really surprised. “What about golden boy here?”

Enjolras flushed at the nickname. “Politics with a minor in law. I don’t want to be a lawyer, but it’s useful to know about how the system works. What about you?”

“The most useless degree ever.” Grantaire said. “Art and philosophy double major. I throw some classics electives in there sometimes just to make it especially impractical.”

“I always think it’s silly when people say that a certain degree is more or less useful than another. Maybe you would have more job security if you studied business, or something, but if you don’t want that as your career then there’s literally no point.” Combeferre said, and clearly this was a topic he was passionate about.

“That’s easy for you to say, when you’re studying medicine.” Grantaire said, then inhaled sharply as he realised what he’d said. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean that, I just-“

Combeferre shrugged. “I’m not offended. It’s true.”

“Still, you’re defending what I’m studying. It was a bit of a douchey move on my part. I kind of automatically look to pull apart any argument I can, no matter how horrible of a thing it is to say.”

“Enjolras will have no problem calling you out on it.” Combeferre said dryly, laughing as Enjolras blushed and ducked his head.

“It’s true.” He admitted.

“This is going to be terrible. You’re just going to argue all the time.”

They all turned around to see Courfeyrac standing there, grimacing.

Grantaire laughed. “If you want to stick to your old style, feel free to kick me out.”

“No!” Combeferre and Enjolras said together.

 Grantaire raised an eyebrow, and Enjolras was quick to explain. “We need some dissenting opinions sometimes.”

Courfeyrac grinned. “Maybe this will work after all.”

“I have a response to what you were saying before, as well.” Combeferre said, turning to face Grantaire. “About not being able to change humanity.”

“Yeah?”

“We might not be able to change all of humanity, but the only alternative is giving up, and nothing will change then. Even if we fail at changing the world, we will have shown we are not complicit in the wrongs that are being perpetrated, and we wouldn’t know what would have happened if we hadn’t tried. So, really, in the face of humanity’s darkness, I can’t see any other option than to fight.”

Grantaire smiled. “I do love being proven wrong about this shit. I still don’t think you will have much of an impact, but I can’t really blame you for trying. I’m still not sure I can bring _myself_ to try, but then I’m not a very brave person.”

“If you don’t think you can try but you are anyway, then I think that’s a special sort of bravery.” Courfeyrac said, resting a hand on Grantaire’s shoulder.

Grantaire shook his head. These people really were far too sincere. “I disagree, but I don’t have the energy to argue anymore. I’m sure I’ll see you guys at some point in the next couple of days.”

* * *

 

“These fucking people.” Grantaire said in the car on the way home. “I don’t know how you found them.”

Musichetta was driving, and only shrugged, but Joly turned around in the front seat. “I noticed you were talking to Combeferre and Enjolras a lot. Did you have a nice night?”

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Not you, too.”

“I think you’re being deliberately obtuse.” Bossuet said, reaching across the middle seat to nudge Grantaire gently. “’Chetta said you didn’t think they were interested, but that’s not what I saw tonight.”

“I insulted them throughout the night, several times personally. I really don’t think that’s endearing me to anyone.”

“You’ll see.” Bossuet said. “I bet you fifty bucks they’ll ask you out within three months. If you win, you get two boyfriends. If you lose, you get fifty dollars.”

“You have such bad luck, my friend, that you can only possibly lose.” Grantaire said. “I don’t want to deprive you of your money, since there is no possibility of us dating. It’s not a fair bet to take.”

“I ended up dating two amazing people.” Bossuet said, ignoring the _awww_ s from Joly and Musichetta. “My luck isn’t terrible all the time.”

“Still no dice. As I said, it’s not a fair bet.”

“You’re a stubborn idiot.” Musichetta said, meeting Grantaire’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Can that be on my gravestone when I die? I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the comments on this have been about how cute it is, and this chapter is kind of... not cute? Sorry!!! There's a minor character death in this chapter (which I forgot to tag before, sorry!) and discussions of mental illness and alcoholism, just a heads up.

 

For the next few weeks, Enjolras and Combeferre stuck to their coffee routine, although they stayed longer than they used to, chatting to Grantaire, until one day when Enjolras walked into the bakery alone. His eyes were rimmed with red, and Grantaire wasn’t sure if he was supposed to mention it, or not.

When Enjolras started sniffling while Grantaire was steaming soymilk, he knew he had to say something.

“You really look like you need to go back upstairs and stay with Combeferre today.” Grantaire said gently, handing over the coffee.

“I can’t.” Enjolras said in a small voice, and there was something deeply unsettling to see such a bright and powerful person reduced to this. “One of his mums, Clarisse, is in hospital, and he’s with her. They said she doesn’t have long left.”

“Oh, Enjolras.” Grantaire said, walking around the counter to stand next to him. “Do you want a hug?”

Enjolras nodded, and allowed Grantaire to pull him into his arms. Grantaire could feel him shaking slightly, and moved away a little.

“That’s it, I’m taking you back upstairs. You can’t go to uni like this. Just give me a second.” Grantaire dashed behind the counter, craning his head around the racks of bread into the kitchens. “Chetta, I need you to call in someone else, I have to take care of an emergency.”

Musichetta came running over, face draining of blood. “What’s going on, Grantaire?”

“I need to help Enjolras out, Combeferre’s with his dying mother in hospital and Enjolras shouldn’t be by himself right now. Could you sort someone out to work the till?”

“Of course.” Musichetta said, “Make sure to pass on my love to Enjolras and Combeferre, okay?”

Grantaire nodded.

“Good, now get going.”

 

* * *

 

Grantaire kept an arm around Enjolras’ shoulders as they made their way upstairs, not sure whether or not he should acknowledge the tears running down his face. Enjolras’ hands were shaking too much to get his key in the door, and Grantaire took it gently from him.

“You go and get some comfy clothes on, I’ll find something to watch.” Grantaire said, and it was so strange to see the usually passionate man nod meekly and disappear into the bedroom.

The flat was a bit of a mess. Books were stacked everywhere, and mugs with dregs of coffee and tea sat forgotten on various surfaces, some with mould beginning to grow.

Grantaire had unearthed a stack of Disney DVDs and was washing the dirty cups when Enjolras emerged in tracksuit pants and a too-long jumper which probably belonged to Combeferre.

“You don’t have to do that.” Enjolras said, joining Grantaire in the kitchen, sitting on the bench when Grantaire only shrugged.

“Dirty dishes don’t make anyone’s emotional state better.” Grantaire said, drawing a small smile from Enjolras. “I brought up your coffee, if you still want it.”

Enjolras hesitated, but went to grab his keep cup.

“You don’t have to drink it, I didn’t charge you.”

“I don’t like waste.”

“I think you’re allowed to waste one cup of coffee in this kind of situation.”

Enjolras shrugged, shrinking in on himself and looking even younger than he usually did. “I never know what to do when stuff like this happens. I don’t like to do nothing, but when I do anything, I feel like I’m ignoring what’s happening.”

“I get what you mean. When my sister died, I think I just painted and drank for about a month straight. I was either really productive or not productive at all, depends on how you look at it.”

“Your sister died? I’m sorry.” Enjolras said, eyes impossibly huge and sad.

Grantaire shrugged. “It was ages ago. Drunk driver. Drove me into alcoholism, which is kind of ironic. And that was a really horrible pun that I didn’t even realise I was making.”

Then Enjolras’ arms were around him, and Grantaire was batting him away gently. “It was a long time ago, I’m fine now. I’m not the one needing comfort.”

Enjolras’ grip on him loosened, but he didn’t let go. “Can we watch _Hercules_?”

“Hell, yes.”

 

* * *

 

They were into _Mulan_ when Grantaire dared to ask why Enjolras wasn’t at the hospital with Combeferre.

“Today’s for Clarisse’s family. It’s been coming for a while, and I haven’t known her very long. I didn’t want to be taking up space where someone else could have been; I’ve had my chance to say goodbye.”

“That’s very self-sacrificing. You’re a much better person than I am.”

“Look at what you’re doing now, and try to tell me you’re not a good person.”

Grantaire shrugged. “Anyone would do this, particularly for you two.” _Shit, Grantaire, now is REALLY not the time._

Enjolras didn’t seem to pick up on that, though, and just shook his head. “You’re wrong, but I’m not going to argue with you. I can’t, not today.”

“Why don’t you call Combeferre, see how he’s doing?”

Enjolras nodded, smiling a little through his sadness. “You really are a good person.”

“Go call your boyfriend.”

Enjolras got off the couch, taking one of the blankets with him, and disappeared into the bedroom, although he didn’t close the door, and Grantaire could hear him murmuring softly on the phone, down to the last _I love you._

 “He’s doing about as well as you can expect. His mum’s body is starting to properly shut down, they don’t think it will be long.”

 

* * *

 

It was only a few hours before Combeferre walked into the flat, tears streaking his face. He tried to speak but couldn’t, horrible gasping sobs all the sound he could make. Enjolras rushed over to him, the two of them collapsing to the floor in tears.

Grantaire wasn’t sure what to do in the face of such a private scene, and slipped out the door quietly, almost literally bumping into Courfeyrac.

“You heard, then?”

Courfeyrac nodded, and tackled Grantaire in a hug. “Combeferre told me what you did for Enjolras. Thank you. Really.”

Grantaire shrugged awkwardly. He was never good at dealing with gratitude. “It’s what I’d do for any of you guys. But I kind of… left? Without saying goodbye? I didn’t know what to do, they were hugging and crying on the floor and I didn’t belong there.”

“You’re silly.” Courfeyrac said. “I’ll just say you went to let me in. Come on.”

So Grantaire walked back into the apartment with Courfeyrac in tow, and allowed himself to be pulled into a hug with them all.

Before long the rest of the Amis arrived, bearing drinks, which they toasted to Combeferre’s mother. He started crying when they did that, and they formed a mass cuddle pile to surround him.

Grantaire wasn’t sure he belonged there, but when he got up to order food, Combeferre followed him.

“I know we haven’t known you that long, but I just wanted to say that-“ Combeferre sniffled, blinking furiously and trying to stay composed. “That I count you among my closest friends. Courfeyrac mentioned that you tried to leave before, so I’m just letting you know that you’re always welcome with all of us. Even if it’s just me and Enjolras, you don’t have to leave to give us space. We want you here.”

Suddenly Grantaire was the one fighting back tears, and he wondered how he came to be in this situation. “Thanks, man. You guys are the greatest people I’ve ever met, honestly. I didn’t meet your mum, but she must have been an amazing woman, to raise someone like you.” _God, was he becoming one of these weirdly sincere people? What was happening to the world?_

Combeferre gave him a very watery smile, then blinked again and focused on the pizza menu, reeling off everyone’s favourites. Grantaire had the feeling Combeferre was the kind of person who pretended to be completely functional, because he’d fall apart if he didn’t have some kind of purpose. Once they’d ordered the pizzas, though, he allowed Grantaire to pull him into a hug, and they headed back to the cuddle pile arm in arm.

 

* * *

 

At some point in the early hours of the morning, Enjolras lifted his head sleepily. Combeferre and Courfeyrac were curled around him, Grantaire on the other side of Combeferre. “Grantaire, are you awake?” He whispered.

“No. I’m asleep.”

Grantaire could almost hear Enjolras’ eye roll.

“What you said before, about being an alcoholic. What changed? Why did you decide to become sober?”

Grantaire tensed as Combeferre whimpered in his sleep, shifting so his head was against his shoulder. Enjolras smiled fondly at them.

“After my sister died, I was drinking every day, and I couldn’t really afford it. I lost my job because I was always drunk, and I was kicked out of my apartment when I couldn’t pay the rent. I didn’t really have anything to live for, and Bossuet found me with a lethally high blood alcohol level. I guess I quit at first for my friends, but I relapsed a lot, and it wasn’t going well. Then Joly convinced me to see a psychiatrist, and I almost died again when I mixed my antidepressants with alcohol. I realised that time that I didn’t actually want to die, and I decided to get better for myself. Musichetta gave me my job at the bakery, and I’ve been sober for four months now.”

“You’re amazing.” Enjolras said, sounding half-asleep. “I don’t think I could have done the same thing in your situation.”

Grantaire shrugged it off. “The human body wants to survive, I guess.”

“No, it’s more than that.” Combeferre said, eyes still closed as he leant against Grantaire. “Sorry, didn’t mean to eavesdrop. But Enjolras is right, you’re amazing.”

Grantaire blushed, but didn’t say anything. Combeferre made a small contented noise and snuggled further into the gap between him and Enjolras, who burrowed into the blanket, pulling it off Grantaire.

“You’re a menace, Enjolras.” Grantaire said sleepily, and a hand that was only small enough to be Joly’s reached over to pat his head.

Enjolras, already asleep, didn’t reply, and Grantaire drifted off with only the warmth of Combeferre’s body against his side, Joly’s hand dangling off the couch next to his head.

 

* * *

 

Grantaire woke, to his embarrassment, pressed against Combeferre’s side, legs tangled with his and Enjolras’. He moved away a little only for Combeferre to let out a sleepy disgruntled noise, relaxing again when Grantaire curled back against him. Enjolras, mostly asleep, slid a foot up a little so his icy toes were against Grantaire’s warm shin.

The small shriek Grantaire accidentally let out at how cold Enjolras’ feet were woke everyone up.

 

* * *

 

Combeferre had to leave to help out his surviving mother with funeral arrangements, Enjolras leaving with him. Surprisingly, everyone stayed after they left, tidying up and making food under the direction of Courfeyrac, although they all left before Enjolras and Combeferre returned – “They do have to have some privacy to grieve, after all.” Courfeyrac had said sombrely.

Grantaire spent the rest of the day holed up in his apartment, painting furiously. Courfeyrac had shown him a picture of Combeferre with his mothers, and he was currently working to paint it as well as he could. His best work was far more abstract, but hopefully he’d managed to make them recognisable enough without it being an utterly terrible painting.

He painted well into the early hours of the morning, not caring that he had uni later that day, or that he hadn’t slept well the night before. Finally, the picture was finished, and he was remarkably happy with it. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been content with something he’d painted. Exhausted, he collapsed into bed at four in the morning, knocking his alarm onto the floor when it went off three hours later.

 

* * *

 

 

Grantaire dropped the painting off at Enjolras and Combeferre’s apartment on his way to university, leaving his bike leaning against a streetlight and hoping someone wouldn’t steal it. He knocked on the door, worrying his lip between his teeth.

“Grantaire?” Enjolras answered the door, eyes red and puffy, hair still messy as though he’d only just got out of bed. “What are you doing here?”

“I painted this for Combeferre.” Grantaire said, handing over the canvas.

Enjolras gasped as he took the painting, eyes roving over it with wonder. “Grantaire, this is amazing. Combeferre will really appreciate it. I’d wake him up so he could tell you himself, but he was up half the night and he really needs the rest.”

“It’s okay, it’s not that important. I just wanted him to know that we’re thinking about him and his mums. I’ve got to run, though, I have a lecture in like half an hour.”

“I won’t keep you, then.” Enjolras said. “But really, thank you so much for this. You’re only proving me right about saying you’re a good person.”

“I guess you guys bring out the best in me.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally stuffed up with the last chapter and ended it at a different spot than I'd planned to. The bit left is pretty short, but I don't want to tack it on to the start of the next chapter which means two updates in a day? Yay?

The next day, Grantaire was working his usual morning shift, and both Enjolras and Combeferre turned up at seven o’clock on the dot, keep cups in hand. Their routine was the same as it had been before, but something had shifted in their relationship with Grantaire. He wasn’t sure what exactly had changed, but he was both more comfortable and more wary around the two of them, all too mindful of how easy it would be to fall entirely in love with them.

“You’re ready to face the world?” Grantaire asked gently as he tamped down the coffee, glad that he had something to do with his hands so he wouldn’t have to stand there awkwardly.

“Not really.” Combeferre admitted, and he looked completely exhausted. “But that’s not going to stop the world from turning. I’m not going into uni today anyway, but I think I need some of your excellent coffee to get through funeral arrangements, as well as all the legal stuff. Maman doesn’t need to do all of that alone.”

“Neither do you, though.” Enjolras said sharply, taking his coffee when Grantaire handed it over, pouring sugar in.

“I know, _dear_.” Combeferre said, something like a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “And I’m not. Oh, I almost forgot.” He turned to Grantaire. “Enjolras gave me your painting. I can’t thank you enough for it, it’s one of the loveliest things anyone has ever done for me. You didn’t even meet Mum, but you really captured her essence. She would have loved it. I showed Maman, and she cried, that’s how incredible it is.”

Grantaire blushed. “I’m sorry for making your mother cry.”

Combeferre shook his head. “That wasn’t the point I was making.”

“Oh, I know. Anyway, Chetta made a batch of her special muffins if you guys want one? On the house, of course.”

“We’ve already had breakfast. Thanks, though.” Combeferre said, at the same as Enjolras saying, “Oh, that would be lovely, thank you.”

Combeferre turned to face Enjolras. “You can’t still be hungry?”

“I always have enough room in my stomach for those muffins.” Enjolras replied, a touch embarrassed.

“You’re ridiculous.” Grantaire head Combeferre say, as he ducked into the kitchen to grab one of the muffins, which had just been taken out of the oven.

Enjolras beheld his muffin with stars in his eyes when Grantaire handed it over.

“Do you need a moment?” Grantaire asked, smirking when it startled a laugh from Combeferre.

“Make fun of me all you want, I have the world’s best muffin in my hands, and it’s _still warm_.”

“My boyfriend is going to leave me for a muffin.” Combeferre sighed dramatically. “Grantaire, this is all your fault.”

“You know my love for this muffin doesn’t detract from my love for you.” Enjolras huffed teasingly.

“Fine, but ‘my boyfriend is in a polyamorous relationship with me and a muffin’ doesn’t exactly have the same ring to it.”

And suddenly they were in territory that Grantaire hadn’t even wanted to consider properly. The notion that they would even joke about polyamorous relationships was mindboggling to him. Did that mean they had talked about it? Even if they had, Grantaire felt bad for thinking about it – Combeferre’s mother had just died, and here he was stressing about relationships he didn’t even have a chance in.

“Shit, ‘Ferre, we have to dash.” Enjolras’ voice jolted Grantaire from his thoughts. “Thanks for giving me my new romantic partner, Grantaire!” He called, taking Combeferre’s hand with his – the one that wasn’t holding the muffin, of course.

And then they were gone, with that little wave.

“Well, fuck.”

“You seem to be saying that a lot.”

Grantaire turned around to see Musichetta standing in the kitchen doorway.

“I think that’s just my life right now.” Grantaire said, rolling his eyes when she only patted him on the head and went back to her baking.

 

* * *

 

 

At the end of his shift, Grantaire was surprised to see Bahorel enter the bakery.

“What can I get for you today, sir?” He asked, shoving his bag back behind the cabinet.

Bahorel rolled his eyes and pulled an apron out of his backpack. “You can get the hell out of here so I can start my shift.”

“You actually quit law school, then?”

“Yup. No idea what I’m actually going to do with my life, but y’know. I don’t dread uni anymore.”

Grantaire grinned, tugging at the strings of his apron. “You’re officially a dropout.”

“I’ve never been happier.”

Grantaire tried to flick Bahorel’s bun but couldn’t reach it, even on tiptoes. “Ugh, you’re too tall. Anyway, say hi to the caffeine addicted power couple from upstairs when they come in, if you’re working any morning shifts. They’re in here literally every day at seven. Rich people, man.”

Bahorel shook his head in sympathy. “I’m working tomorrow, it’ll be nice to see them outside of meetings more.”

“Anyway, I have an essay that’s due in like three hours and I’ve barely started it, so I’ve got to head off.”

“You’ll ace it, man.”

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, Grantaire was awoken by his phone buzzing obscenely early. It was one of his few mornings off and he had been looking forwards to sleeping in, not being woken at 7:15 by Bahorel texting him.

 _Bahorel_ : power couple didn’t show, you liar

 _Grantaire:_ that’s weird, the only time they haven’t come when I’m working is when something was wrong

 _Grantaire:_ I hope everything’s alright with them

 _Bahorel:_ just check in with them if ur worried, they won’t mind

 

 _Grantaire:_ everything okay with you guys? bahorel said you didn’t come for coffee

 _Combeferre:_ Yeah fine, just sleeping in.

 _Enjolras:_ or at least we were

 _Enjolras:_ jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

 _Combeferre:_ Enjolras just fell asleep on his phone. I’m going to join him, thanks for thinking about us :) x

 _Grantaire:_ yeah sleep sounds good to me too, I’ll see you around x

 

Why was Combeferre sending him messages with kisses? That surely couldn’t- Of course there wasn’t anything romantic about it. Friends sent kisses in texts to each other all the time. He didn’t overthink it when literally any of his other friends did it.

Still, it was nice to know that he was good enough friends with Combeferre to warrant being sent kisses. Even if it wasn’t a romantic gesture, it was nice.

Sighing happily, Grantaire snuggled down into the covers, a warm feeling pooling in his chest. He just had to completely ignore that the objects of his affections were currently doing the same, but together, and how he’d love to be there, not even doing anything. Just sleeping with them, spending lazy mornings pottering about the apartment, making breakfast for the others. Hell, he’d even risk his life stealing that muffin recipe from Musichetta, if Enjolras would look at him like he did the other day. And it would make Combeferre smile, because he liked Enjolras being happy. Then he would make coffee for them, like always, and they would look at him in the way they always did, because they were ridiculous coffee fiends, only he would make some for himself as well. They would sit at the table together, arguing over the newspaper, and it would be wonderful.

It was a nice fantasy, and Grantaire drifted off to sleep pretending that the bunched up doona he surrounded himself with was, in fact, two bodies pressed up against him.


	5. Chapter 5

Grantaire sighed as he examined his reflection critically. No matter what, suits didn’t look good on him. He was too short and stocky, and they did nothing to flatter his form. Not that it mattered what he looked like, really. Today wasn’t about him, it was about Clarisse, and supporting Combeferre. Musichetta had closed the bakery for the day so they could all attend the funeral, but Grantaire couldn’t help but feel he didn’t belong.

__

_Grantaire:_ are you sure he wants me there

 _Enjolras:_ I’m certain. You’re one of our friends, R, and Combeferre’s glad of all the support he can get at the moment.

 _Grantaire:_ if you’re sure, I just don’t want to intrude since I never met Clarisse

 _Enjolras:_ You aren’t intruding. We like having you around, and anything that makes today easier on Combeferre is worth it so please come if you’re up to it. x

 _Grantaire:_ of course I’m up to it, I’d do anything for you guys

 

* * *

 

The funeral was a bittersweet affair, filled with love. Grantaire was certain he’d never cried so much in his life, let alone for someone he’d never met. Combeferre made an amazing speech, voice shaking throughout, which left everyone crowded into the small church in tears.

For the rest of the service, Combeferre was sitting on the front pew, tightly gripping Enjolras’ hand on one side, and his mother’s on the other. The rest of Les Amis – apart from Courfeyrac, who was next to Enjolras – were sitting towards the back of the church, since they were more there for support than mourning, and it felt disrespectful to sit closer when there were people who would mourn more than them. They didn’t go to the actual cremation, either, but they were there for the wake.

Grantaire was jittery at the amount of alcohol being consumed around him, until Combeferre approached, collapsing on him in a hug, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Grantaire sent Enjolras a panicked look over Combeferre’s shoulder which was met with a gentle smile, and Enjolras approached to gently prise him away.

“I’m sorry.” Combeferre said, drawing away. “I… I can’t…”

“Why don’t you get a drink of water, love, and we can talk once you’re actually able to.” Enjolras said, leading Combeferre by the hand over to the bar and gesturing for Grantaire to follow.

Grantaire sat uneasily at the bar, sipping at a ginger beer in the hopes of quelling his itch for alcohol.

“Oh shit, Grantaire, I didn’t even think.” Enjolras said, noticing his discomfort. “I’m sorry, we can go somewhere else.”

Grantaire shook his head. “It’s nothing I’m not used to.”

Combeferre reached over to rest a hand on his shoulder. “It doesn’t make it any easier. I don’t know how you do it.”

“Don’t worry about me, I don’t know how _you’re_ doing this. You’ve been doing so much the past few days, make sure to take some time for yourself, okay?”

Enjolras nudged Combeferre gently. “I’ll take care of him.”

“Save me now, Grantaire.” Combeferre said, draining his glass.

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “I suppose you’ll have to come with us, then, to make sure that I don’t accidentally kill Combeferre.”

Grantaire tried to ignore the way his breathing hitched.

“Would you?”

Grantaire’s head snapped up. “You mean-?”

“You’re good company, and Mum wouldn’t want us to be sad, not tonight. So, do you want to come over?” Combeferre asked.

“If you want me there, then of course.” Grantaire said, ignoring the blush rising up his neck as Combeferre placed a hand over his.

“We’ll always want you around, I promise.” Enjolras said softly. “I know we argue, but we do enjoy your company. Neither of us want you to think for a minute that we’re only tolerating you.”

Grantaire still found it hard to believe, but Enjolras was being, as usual, completely sincere. He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Thank you.”

“Thank _you_.” Combeferre said, thumb running over the back of Grantaire’s knuckles. “You’ve been so wonderful to the two of us, and we do appreciate it.”

Grantaire looked down, only to have Enjolras’ fingers catch his chin, lifting it gently.

“Hey, we don’t want you to be uncomfortable, but you sometimes seem to really doubt that we like you, which we do. A lot. Look, now’s not the time for this conversation, but we just want you to know.”

Grantaire wasn’t sure how to respond to that, and only raised his glass. “You’re right on one thing, now’s not the time. To Clarisse, the most amazing woman I’ve never met.”

“To Clarisse.” Enjolras echoed sombrely.

“To Mum.” Combeferre finished, tears gathering in his eyes.

 

* * *

 

Combeferre and Enjolras went off to mingle, after introducing Enjolras to Combeferre’s living mother, Astrid.

“Clarisse would have loved to meet you.” She said to Grantaire, while both of them were watching Combeferre and Enjolras, who were hand in hand. “Nicolas spoke about you often.”

“I would have liked to meet her, too.” Grantaire said softly. “You’ve raised a wonderful son, I can only imagine how wonderful she must have been.”

Astrid smiled, though it didn’t cut through the clear sadness she was feeling. “Thank you. We’re both very proud of him. He doesn’t take care of himself, though, and heaven knows Enjolras isn’t going to be a good influence in that regard.”

“They know when to ask for help, at least. I’ll make sure they’re okay tonight, don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried.” Astrid said, pulling him into a hug. “I can see how much you care for them.”

Grantaire blushed. “It’s not like that, I’m not…”

“It’s okay.” Astrid said, pulling back and ruffling his unruly curls. “They care about you, too.”

“I don’t want them to think I’m trying to come between them.” Grantaire said.

Combeferre turned around and caught sight of them, whispering something in Enjolras’ ear. They both looked over to Grantaire and Astrid, doing their little wave in synch.

“I don’t think that’s a problem, dear.”

 

* * *

 

They went home after the wake, Combeferre and Enjolras a little tipsy. Combeferre reached out for both of their hands, and Grantaire tried not to hope too much. Everything certainly seemed to point to romance, but he didn’t want to assume. That would only end in disaster.

No, it was much easier to follow them up the narrow stairs and collapse on the couch together and squish down his feelings. It was easy to bring them hot chocolate and tuck blankets around them and let Combeferre share his favourite stories of his mum. Anyone who cared about them would do that. It was easy to watch Enjolras lovingly kiss Combeferre’s forehead when he started crying, easy to be swept up into their arms and soothe them as they sobbed.

It was all too easy to fall in love with them.

They drew out details of his sister from Grantaire, when he’d never talked about her to anyone before. Not the way she’d pull her hair back into a high ponytail that was always so much neater than his own tangled hair. Or the way she threw her head back when she laughed. Or the way she would always ask him to tell her stories from far off countries when she was young, and how she’d made up the stories herself when she grew older. Or how they had huddled under the blankets in his room whenever their parents fought, and how she had worried about his bleak moods, shielding him from their parents when they tried to force him out of bed on days when he couldn’t get up.

He didn’t tell them about how he’d been on the phone to her when she was hit, how he still dreamed of the screech of tyres.

In turn, Combeferre lay in Enjolras’ lap and traced the lines of Grantaire’s palms, the scars in rows up his arms, telling him of how Clarisse was the gentlest person he’d ever met, and how she’d taught him that it was so important to be soft and kind, above all things. Astrid had showed him how to throw a punch if he needed to, and Clarisse showed him how to tend to wounds. She taught him, though, to stand up for himself, and to raise his voice against those who needed to be screamed at, but never to speak louder than those who were being hurt.

Enjolras, Combeferre’s head in his lap and Grantaire’s against his shoulder, told them about his parents, how they threw him out when he came out as trans and gay. Told them with a faint smile how his grandparents took him in then, both sides fighting good-naturedly to have custody of him. It was wonderful, he told them in a broken voice, to have people so obvious in their love for him.

Combeferre sat up and kissed him at that, telling him he loved him. Catching Grantaire looking away, he reached over for his hand. “You, too, Grantaire. We all love you, and we’re here for you. You’re part of our family now.”

That, more than anything else, sent Grantaire over the edge, and he started crying with great, hiccupping gasps. Enjolras pressed a kiss to his temple, and Combeferre ran a hand gently through his hair.

“I was meant to keep you happy.” Grantaire said, half-laughing.

“Well, I’m happy because you’re here.” Combeferre responded stubbornly. “So you’re doing your job perfectly, in my eyes.”

 

* * *

 

They went to bed soon after that, Grantaire clad in a too-long pair of Combeferre’s pyjama pants. Despite his offers to sleep on the couch, he was all but dragged into bed with them.

“Do you not want to sleep with us? Because neither of us want to make you uncomfortable, but if you’re doing this because you think we don’t want you there, then please don’t bother. We wouldn’t offer otherwise.” Combeferre had said. “I know we haven’t talked about it yet, but please just believe we’re completely sincere in our offers.”

Grantaire hadn’t been able to come up with a good response to that, and they had ended up in the ridiculously huge bed, Combeferre in the middle.

“Thank you both, for everything.” Combeferre said, when they were under the covers. “I love you a lot. Both of you.”

“You too.” Grantaire said, avoiding the urge to mumble it into the pillows. “And same for me, I mean it for both of you.”

“Mm, me too.” Enjolras said tiredly, and within minutes he’d fallen asleep and taken up almost half of the bed, squishing Combeferre close to Grantaire.

“Sorry about this.” Combeferre said, trying not to press up against Grantaire. “He’s also the worst kind of covers hog, just pull them back if he steals them. It won’t wake him up, don’t worry.”

“It’s fine.” Grantaire said, trying to ignore the way his voice rose in pitch. “It’s, um. It’s really fine. I really don’t mind. As long as you don’t mind, that is. But, yeah. Um.”

Combeferre laughed softly. “You’re almost falling off the bed there, I don’t mind if you move this way a bit.”

Grantaire shuffled back a couple of centimetres, until Combeferre wrapped an arm around him and pulled him closer.

“Is this okay?”

“This is so okay. Won’t Enjolras mind?”

Combeferre only laughed again. “No, Enjolras really won’t mind. I promise.”

Grantaire wasn’t really sure what that was supposed to mean – okay, he did, but if he thought about it too much then his brain was going to explode, so he just concentrated on falling asleep. That was easy enough to do, what with the warmth radiating out from Combeferre next to him, and the combined scents of him and Enjolras clinging to the sheets. Within moments, he was sound asleep, Combeferre not far behind.

 

* * *

 

Grantaire woke the next morning to find that at some point Combeferre had got out of bed, and Enjolras had taken his place, an arm flung across Grantaire’s chest. Grantaire eased himself out from under the limb – which was harder than expected, Enjolras was all but clinging to him, and let out a sleepy, displeased noise – and followed his nose to the kitchen, where the scent of coffee was beckoning.

Combeferre was standing in front of an open cupboard, an espresso machine gurgling away.

“Good morning.” Combeferre said softly. He looked completely exhausted. “Coffee?”

“Please. Just black is fine for me.”

Combeferre handed over a steaming mug, which Grantaire cupped between his hands gratefully.

“Wait, if you have a coffee machine, why do you always come and get coffee from the bakery?”

Combeferre went completely red. “I- We just…”

“Is that coffee I smell?” Enjolras asked, appearing in the doorframe, wiping his eyes of sleep blearily. “You guys left me _all alone_ in bed, and I woke up and it was so cold. Coffee is making up for it slightly, though.”

Grantaire smiled at his truly ridiculous hair, completely tangled from sleep.

“Well, you could have just got another blanket. You know where they are.” Combeferre said patiently, handing Enjolras his coffee.

Enjolras huffed. “Or I could just steal all your body heat.” He collapsed forwards onto Combeferre, barely missing spilling his coffee, and his eyes slowly drifted closed.

“Is he… Is he _asleep?_ ” Grantaire asked incredulously.

Combeferre wrapped his arms around Enjolras, leaning against the bench to relieve some of the weight. “Yep. It’s not that uncommon. He really hates morning.”

Things just weren’t adding up. They had a perfectly good coffee machine at home, and Enjolras hated mornings. Why would they get up so early all the time to get coffee on their way to class?

He’d spent so long certain that Combeferre and Enjolras had strictly platonic feelings for him, and it was too much to be around then when they were being all cute and sleepy and cuddly with each other, let alone _with him_. 

“I have to go.” Grantaire said abruptly. “Thank you for everything, and I really hope you’re doing okay today, but I just have to go.”

He was panicking, and he knew that Combeferre didn't understand what was going on, but he didn't know what to do. He just had to get out of there before they realised they didn't actually want him. Because they couldn't. Who in their right mind would choose him? No, he had to go, had to get out of here before he did something really stupid like tell them how he felt, because they were so  _nice_ , and he kept spilling out his stupid feelings in front of them.

He ran to the bedroom to get changed – he only had that stupid suit to wear, and it was annoying to get on, and by the time he was dressed, Combeferre no longer had the weight of Enjolras pinning him against the bench.

“Wait, Grantaire-" Combeferre said, “Please, if we did something wrong, tell us. Just talk to us, okay?”

Grantaire shook his head. “No, it’s all me. I just… I need some space, okay?”

“Grantaire!” This time it was Enjolras, following in his pyjamas as he tore down the stairs. “Please, Grantaire. Don’t go.”

Enjolras reached out to place a hand on Grantaire’s shoulder, which he shrugged off.

“Enjolras, just leave me alone.”

Enjolras drew back, hurt. “R, please, just talk to us. If we went over the line, I’m so sorry. I thought we were _friends.”_

Grantaire flinched back at that. Of course he’d been reading too much into it. “Yeah, well maybe we were never on the same page.”

Combeferre joined them then, placing an arm around Enjolras’ shoulders.

“What is _wrong_ with you? I know you care about us, you told us last night.” Enjolras said, in tears.

Grantaire let out a bitter laugh. This was going to hurt, but it was better like this, better that he didn’t get any closer to them, because it would only hurt more in the long run if he didn’t. “You were both upset, I said what I had to.”

Combeferre levelled him with an icy gaze. “I don’t believe you.”

Grantaire only shook his head, and walked off.

It was better this way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I'm sorry.
> 
> There is lots and lots of fluff coming up really soon, I promise!!


	6. Chapter 6

They didn’t come to get coffee from him the next day, but Grantaire could see through the glass doors as Enjolras left for class by himself, deliberately not looking into the bakery.

Combeferre didn’t go past at all, and Enjolras returned in the afternoon with Courfeyrac in tow, who glared at Grantaire.

It hurt. It hurt so much, but it was better this way. They would have seen how much of a fuck up he was eventually, and this way he wouldn’t be in too deep before it happened.

Courfeyrac came down alone a short while later, striding into the bakery with barely contained fury.

“What the fuck have you done to my best friends?” He all but shouted.

Grantaire shrugged. “They’re better off this way.”

Courfeyrac looked like he was going to rip his hair out. “What the hell is going on, Grantaire?”

“I couldn’t be friends with them anymore.” Grantaire said tiredly. “It hurt too much.”

“So you decided to hurt them instead?”

“They’re not hurt, they never cared about me as much as I cared about them.”

“I swear to God, Grantaire.” Courfeyrac said. “Are you being this obtuse deliberately?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Enjolras all but rebuffed me because we’re _just friends_ and I don’t want to make them uncomfortable by forcing my stupid crush on them. It’s okay, I’ll get over it.”

“Oh my God.” Courfeyrac buried his face in his hands. “You actually _don’t know_.”

Grantaire stared at him in confusion.

“Grantaire, the first time they dragged me in here, it was because they thought the guy who made their coffee was _so cute_.”

“It’s not-“

“R, I am literally going to scream if you don’t get this through your head. They don’t come here every single morning for coffee, they come every single morning that _you’re working here_. Because they want to see you. They’ve been doing that for literally the entire time you’ve been working here.”

Grantaire only shook his head in horror. “But then…”

Courfeyrac sighed. “Give me your apron, I’ll cover you. Just go and talk to them, _please._ Combeferre didn’t even leave the house today, he was so upset.”

“Oh, fuck. I fucked up, Courfeyrac.”

Courfeyrac sighed. “Yes, I’ve been trying to tell you that the entire time. Now _go_.”

 

* * *

 

 

Grantaire sprinted up the stairs to the apartment and knocked on the door frantically.

Enjolras opened the door a crack, took one look at him, and slammed the door shut.

“Yeah, I probably deserve that.” Grantaire sighed, then raised his voice. “Enjolras, please open the door, I just want to talk.”

The door opened a crack again. “You had plenty of opportunities to talk yesterday.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I just… Please let me in, Enjolras. I didn’t mean what I said.”

“I want to believe you, Grantaire. I wouldn’t care if it was just me, but you really hurt Combeferre. I don’t want to let you hurt him again.” Enjolras looked bone-tired. “Look, I do think we need to talk, but I just can’t do it right now.”

“Okay.” Grantaire said softly. “I really am sorry, for what it’s worth.”

Enjolras sighed in frustration. “Stop being so good about this. I don’t want to forgive you yet.”

“Just let him in! Stop being so argumentative, Enjolras.” Combeferre’s voice called out.

“But ‘Ferre…”

“You don’t need to hold any more grudges, E. Just let him in, and we can sort this out now, like adults.”

Enjolras shot Grantaire one last glare but let him in and flounced over to the living room, where Combeferre was sitting on the couch in a pile of blankets. He looked completely exhausted, and his eyes were rimmed with red. Grantaire felt terrible.

Enjolras led him to an armchair, but stayed standing, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. “Well?”

“I didn’t mean any of what I said yesterday. I was scared, and I just… snapped, I guess. I’m sorry.”

“What were you scared of, Grantaire?” Combeferre asked.

“I thought it would be obvious. I mean, I’ve only been completely in love with both of you from the first time you ordered coffee from me. Having you guys acting the same way around me as you do around each other was just too much. I just freaked out, and I knew you were going to see what a fuck up I am and then you’d never want to see me again, so I was just doing that so you didn’t have to. And then Enjolras said something about being friends, and it was too much. It hurts too much, just being friends with you. But at the same time, I don’t deserve either of you.”

“You aren’t a fuck up.” Enjolras said angrily, pulling him into a hug. “And we’ll decide if you’re good enough for us, thank you very much. Which you are, by the way. You’re not getting rid of us that easily.”

“Did you really mean it? About being in love with us?” Combeferre asked, almost hesitantly, while Enjolras continued to tackle Grantaire.

“Yes. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make it awkward between us.”

Combeferre only rolled his eyes, and before Grantaire realised what was happening, Enjolras was pulling him over to the couch and kissing him.

“I’m still mad at you.” Enjolras said between kisses.

Grantaire tried to laugh, but was stopped by Enjolras’ lips on his.

Once Enjolras had finished kissing him and moved back to aggressive cuddling, Combeferre slid over to join them.

“We’re in love with you, too, and we’d like to date you. Just so you know.” Combeferre said, then pulled Grantaire into a kiss of his own.

Grantaire smiled. “I’d kind of guessed that by now. And I’d love to date you.”

“Good. Still mad, though!” Enjolras said from where he was curled against Grantaire’s side.

 

* * *

 

 

Musichetta smirked at him when he came down for his shift the next morning, one of Combeferre’s jumpers on underneath his apron.

“Tell me everything.” She said, so he launched into the story, stopping only when Enjolras and Combeferre came down at seven o’clock as usual, each giving Grantaire a quick kiss before they were on their way with that little wave that Grantaire found himself returning.

Musichetta laughed at his moonstruck expression. “I told you they liked you.”

“Shit, Bossuet was right. I’m glad I didn’t take the bet, now I get to keep my money.”

“You’re adorable. I’ll see you at the meeting tonight.” Musichetta said, pulling him into a quick hug. “And I’m happy for you, R, I really am.”

Grantaire smiled. “I’m happy, too.”

 

* * *

 

 

Enjolras and Combeferre came by to pick Grantaire up when his shift finished, walking him to his apartment so he could shower and get changed, seeing as he didn’t want to smell completely like bread during the meeting. He had to laugh at Enjolras’ hopeful expression when he went to take a shower.

“My shower is tiny, love, I don’t think we’ll all fit.” Grantaire said, kissing him and walking off to the bathroom.

Enjolras huffed, but only until Combeferre reminded him of the spa bath back at their apartment that they could make use of. When Grantaire emerged in a towel, hair dripping beads of water down his chest, they were both entirely convinced of the necessity of that endeavour.

Grantaire didn’t miss their lingering gazes, and tried to squash down the happiness that was threatening to burst from him. As well as the arousal. They didn’t have long before the meeting, after all.

Even though Grantaire’s apartment wasn’t far from the Musain, Enjolras worried that Grantaire’s feet would be too tired from his shift to walk, and so they took the bus.

“Still mad at me, huh?” Grantaire teased, as Enjolras shepherded him to the bus stop.

“Hush, you.” Enjolras warned, but rested his chin on Grantaire’s shoulder while they waited. Combeferre looked on, amused, until Enjolras pulled him in for a hug.

“It’s cold.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “You’re always cold.”

“Lucky I’ve got you two to warm me up, then.” Enjolras responded primly.

“Oh my god, you’re so sappy. ‘Ferre, is he always like this?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Grantaire laughed. “You’re such a dork!”

Enjolras poked him in the ribs. “You’re meant to be trying to get back into my good books. Nobody hurts ‘Ferre and gets away with it.”

“I’ve forgiven him, Enjolras.” Combeferre said, exasperated.

“And besides, you _loooove_ me.” Grantaire added in a singsong voice.

“You’re both terrible.” Combeferre said. “Why am I dating either of you?”

 

* * *

 

 

They made it to the meeting early, but everyone else had obviously got word about their relationship, and when the three of them walked into the back room, they were met with cheers. Courfeyrac even threw confetti at them.

Combeferre and Enjolras went to stand at the front of the room, while Grantaire joined Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta further back. They kept grinning at each other all night, and it wasn’t the most effective meeting they’d ever had.

Grantaire kept trying to rile up Enjolras, but Combeferre would step in before he could even respond, and present a flawlessly constructed rebuttal. Grantaire sighed dreamily whenever that happened. Enjolras was getting more and more worked up since he couldn’t argue, until he literally stood on top of the table to respond to Grantaire, which only resulted in Grantaire laughing at him. Enjolras looked incredibly annoyed at that, although he blushed when Grantaire helped him down and kissed his cheek softly.

“I believe in you.” He whispered in Enjolras’ ear, and Enjolras melted at that, looking at him with the fondest expression.

Then Enjolras started speaking again, more passionate than before, and Grantaire couldn’t help but feel like he was being bathed in that golden light again, only didn’t feel inferior this time. Enjolras wanted him by his side, so he was worthy to be there. Grantaire never questioned whether Combeferre really deserved to be standing alongside Enjolras, so he’d try to accept that he belonged there himself.

Combeferre met his eye across the table once Enjolras’ speech began again and grinned, and Grantaire just knew that it was all going to be okay.

 

* * *

 

 

Once the meeting finished, Grantaire went to join his boyfriends. Just thinking the term made him squeal internally, and it was impossible not to grin when Combeferre took his hand. Enjolras was furiously typing something up on his laptop, but stopped when they approached him, relaxing when Grantaire placed his free hand on his shoulder.

“I just need to finish writing out this argument, and then I’ll be ready to go.”

“We’ll leave you to it, then.” Combeferre said, and allowed himself to be dragged into the group of their friends.

They all cooed over their joined hands, and asked too many pointed questions, especially when Musichetta mentioned that Grantaire had come to work in Combeferre’s clothes.

Bahorel pulled Grantaire aside later, tackling him into a hug. “They barely came in for coffee after I started working at the café. I had to promise not to tell you, after you texted me the first day and was all worried about them.”

“Is that true?” Grantaire asked Enjolras, who had joined them by then.

Enjolras ducked his head in embarrassment, but nodded. “We just wanted to see you.”

Grantaire grinned at that. “You’re too cute.”

“Mm, I agree with you there.” Combeferre said, wrapping his arms around Enjolras from behind and resting his chin on his head.

“You guys are sickening.” Bahorel said, wrinkling his noise. “Babe, come here and be cute with me!”

Feuilly looked up from his conversation with Jehan and shot him an _as if_ look.

“You wound me, my love!” Bahorel gasped.

Feuilly rolled his eyes in response, but a smile played at the corners of his lips as he turned back to talk to Jehan.

They lingered late, talking amongst themselves, until all they were yawning and blinking too often, their collective lack of sleep getting to them.

“Do you want to come home with us?” Combeferre offered to Grantaire, who nodded.

“Come on, then.” Enjolras said, “It’s been a big week.”

 

* * *

 

 

“You know, I love your rich dad sometimes.” Grantaire said sleepily, sprawled on his back in the middle of the bed. Combeferre was curled against his side, and made a little humming noise in agreement.

Enjolras looked over from the desk, Combeferre’s glasses perched on his nose, which was currently wrinkled in confusion. “Why?”

“Because he paid for this _amazing_ bed.” Grantaire sighed in contentment, lifting his head up. “It’s missing you, though, muffin.”

“Muffin? Really?” Enjolras said, closing his computer and spinning his chair around. “Although I must admit I am more than willing to fill the gaping void next to you.”

Combeferre looked up, blinking tiredly. “Enjolras? Coming to bed when he’s got work to do? What devilry is this?”

“You two have been hanging out with Jehan too much.” Grantaire said dryly. “Although I do agree with the sentiment.”

Enjolras pouted. “I just wanted to join my marvellous boyfriends in our marvellous bed, which I am glad I conned my dad into buying before he disowned me.”

Grantaire lifted a corner of the doona in invitation, and Enjolras gladly slid under the warm covers. “Mmm. Good night. Love you both.”

Grantaire and Combeferre responded in kind, and they were all drifting off within minutes. Grantaire lay there half-awake, revelling in the warmth radiating off the people on either side of him. Enjolras mumbled something and tugged Grantaire closer, and Grantaire happily laid his head on his chest, stopping Enjolras from moving about too much in the night. They’d learnt their lesson after Enjolras had somehow turned horizontal in his sleep the night before, shoving the other two onto the floor. Enjolras made a small noise of contentment as Grantaire snuggled closer to him, and Combeferre moved to press against Grantaire’s back, throwing an arm over him and Enjolras. Grantaire felt so safe and warm, and it was hard to believe that only a few nights ago he had been imagining this situation, never even daring to hope it would actually happen, but here he was. And there was no place in the world he would rather be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand it's done!  
> I was really nervous about posting this fic and I didn't expect it to be nearly so well received as it has been, so the response I've got has been wonderful. I've got a few more things in the works so I'm sure I'll have something posted before long, but this was about 3/4 finished when I started posting it so I can't guarantee any future fics will be updated as quickly.  
> All I can say is thank you all for your lovely responses, whether it's leaving a comment or kudos, it's really meant a lot to me :)


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